


we pass the line (that separateth one life from another)

by meguri_aite



Category: Shin Sekai Yori | From the New World
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5416766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/pseuds/meguri_aite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She would not let anyone or anything threaten her world anymore, from either side of the Holy Barrier.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	we pass the line (that separateth one life from another)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tanktrilby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanktrilby/gifts).



The wedding ceremony was proceeding as smoothly as she could have hoped.

Saki lifted her eyes to skim over the crowd of attendants. For most of the procession, she had kept them focused on her hands, which rested demurely on the folds of the ceremonial robes, in her best attempt to telegraph the impression of dignified conformity and sincere acceptance of societal norms, but she wanted to see for herself whose faces might bear telltale marks of suppressed anxiety and resentment, to file that information away until she could work on it.

She would not let anyone or anything threaten her world anymore, from either side of the Holy Barrier.

Saki felt a warm hand reach out to hers, reminding her of the presence of person she did not want to imagine herself without, at the same time that she caught the gaze of another, the one she no longer had to imagine herself without.

Satoru squeezed her hand and sent Shun a reassuring smile, crinkling his eyes as if to make fun of the sobriety of the gathering, easily reminding them both that it was, in a way, a joyous occasion. With a half-nod, Shun continued the ceremony, and Saki allowed her shoulders to relax just a fraction.

It was going to be alright. They were here, with her; one by her side, in the groom’s seat, the other facing her - facing the two of them - in the full attire of the priest of the Temple of Purity. On paper, the ceremony today celebrated the official union of two people, and yet it included all three of them, joined in an arrangement that needed no name or entry in the communal book of records.

Shun’s clear voice sang out the chants, and Saki saw people’s lips move in sync, repeating his words of welcome for the union between Asahina Satoru, the brightest scientist of Kamisu’s 66th district, and Watanabe Saki, the Head of the Ethics Committee.

The title she had never sought for herself came in very handy when she and Satoru returned from toxic wastelands of Tokyo, bringing two dead back with them. The lifeless body of Maria and Mamoru’s child, and Shun, the boy whose name had been scratched off all records but the classified list of Hashimoto-Appelbaum syndrome victims.

Saki was still not entirely sure what miracle or twist of human evolution had made Shun’s return possible, but she didn’t lie to herself about what had caused it. The same tragedy that had wiped out the majority of the district’s population - the one that hadn’t left many village elders to cry in outrage about a karma demon walking the earth among the living - had dragged Shun from his shadows. She would always grieve the loss of the human lives at the hands of one child and one rebel, but she would also always remember that if the darkness they had brought about hadn’t been absolute, Shun wouldn’t have walked out of it.

The Security Council had had their objections, of course. Under any other circumstances all the clout she had as Tomiko’s successor would have been useless, any blackmail and pleading and logical reasoning would have fallen on deaf ears, and Saki’s actions would have been classified as nothing but the highest of treasons and a breach of security not unlike the queerat rebellion. Under any other circumstances, the village elders would have had solid weight to throw around and demand annihilation of the karma demon who had wiped out an entire village in the past. (She would have tried all the same, of course.)

But Kaburagi Shisei was no more, along with the rest of strongest exorcists of their community, and the temptation of having someone who could fill in his shoes had made them pause. Shun had been groomed as Shisei’s eventual successor, Saki had reminded them. He went against a fiend and won, she had pointed out. He came back from the dead to protect the village, she had lied. He was fully aware and in control of himself and his powers, and willing to go where she led, she had said, not caring whether it was truth or lies, as she had vouched for him.

His Cantus had evolved so far beyond what was known that it circumvented death feedback, she had told them, threat lacing her arguments like an amplifying drug. What would they achieve by rejecting him except anger a powerful Cantus user with no attack inhibition, when accepting her proposition meant they had an undefeatable monster guarding the village?

They all had come a long enough way from that day, but Saki made sure her every step silenced any possible objection in this argument.

She looked at Shun, taking in every feature of his face - no mask or ornament hiding any part of it, in acquiescence to her request - every crisp fold of his white robes, every controlled, precise gesture. An image of purity and power at the service of the community, their strongest mage.

Shun ended his chants and brought his palms together with a sharp, clear sound, and the air above them shimmered with sunlight and golden glow of small butterflies that appeared out of thin air. Satoru smiled widely, looking at Shun, and held on to her hand, while the adults cheered and the children gasped and squealed in delight as the conjured butterflies perched on their outstretched fingers.

She interlaced her fingers Satoru’s and leaned a little into him, resting her head against his shoulder. He bumped his nose gently against her temple and whispered, “Congratulations.”

Saki smiled at the double meaning of his remark.

It might have been her arguments that allowed Shun to enter back through the Holy Barrier, but the village people accepting him was entirely Satoru’s doing. He treated Shun with respect and admiration befitting one who had inherited Kaburagi Shisei’s mantle, and with grateful joy of a person reunited with an old friend. The sincerity of these emotions was unquestionable in its own right, but Satoru had a way of wearing them on his sleeve that made people want to share them, and soon enough they started bowing with more reverence than fear - and greeting Shun with more warmth than caution. They remembered the victory that put an end to the queerat rebellion, and not the destruction of Pinewind village.

Amazing, capable Satoru, who lived and breathed life and tethered her to it when nothing else seemed to do the trick. She followed his line of sight and saw a peaceful expression on Shun’s face as he looked back at them.

“Congratulations,” she echoed, grateful.

* * *

He thought that for something so meticulously orchestrated to appease the public, the wedding ceremony felt surprisingly emotional. Or maybe it was just that his emotions were always easily compromised when Saki and Satoru were concerned, that was also entirely possible.

Shun checked his grip on the air currents above the village and gave them a gentle spin, raising a warm breeze that ruffled Satoru’s hair and blew away the stray strands that had escaped the complex hairdo on Saki’s head. His Cantus was obediently responding to his merest whims of thought, as if eager to demonstrate it was the tamest of wild animals, but Shun thought it wouldn’t hurt to make sure there was no excess of it pooling in his mind.  An idea occurred to him, and he reached out towards the flowerbeds, making a few changes to the structure of the plants and igniting an ozone-producing chain of reactions over the flowers that in a few minutes would fill the air with a sharp fragrance of coming rain.

Given that his subconscious had seemingly developed a mind of its own by now, one solely determined to ensure his survival by whatever means necessary - even subduing his Cantus into a once-again controllable state - Shun wasn’t sure measures like these would have any effect should his control slip again. But he would always make that extra step anyway.

(Two days later, one of the Maintenance Committee members will notice the unusual pattern on the azalea flowers  by the Sage Academy building and, fascinated by the intricate butterfly shapes on each petal, she will try to cultivate this pattern by cross-breeding it with other azaleas, but the trait will turn out to be recessive. The fact that the pattern is a mathematical equation graph known as a transcendental butterfly curve will go by unnoticed.)

Calmed and reassured by the familiarity of the exercise, he continued with the chants that hailed the union of the newlyweds. He let his voice soar, reciting the ancient words with a detached concentration, his eyes on the two people in front of him and his thoughts elsewhere.

(Saki’s dress is decorated with traditional embroidery, a tasteful line of golden thread along the hem and the seams. It catches light and turns into real gold, into a thin chain woven into the fabric, and then becomes silk again. Satoru looks like an ornament himself, next to her. The pattern on his clothes stays transformed into a delicate chain of metal links. Shun smiles. It looks good on him.)

They had been the only thing he saw - chose to, wanted to, allowed himself to see - for so long that sometimes he forgot to remember whether the rest of the world was real or not. It was less an exaggeration and more a testament to his habit. Back in his days of endless slumber his thoughts had always gone to her, to him, compelled by the longing and desperate reluctance to let go completely; there was nothing else to do in the void that embraced his broken, leaking mind anyway, and he had thought it safe to want in death what he couldn’t afford in life, and the only thing he saw in the darkness was Saki’s face, and Satoru’s next to hers. The vision was soothing, unattainable, _safe_.

Only some time later - an immeasurable infinity of suspension in darkness later -

(what is time space dimensions shapes definitions there is light and it bends and weighs and thoughts atoms particles orbit like wasp balls used to or they don’t it doesn’t matter there is no matter nothing matters not-matter dark matter light matter one matter one with matter)

\- because acknowledging it was also admitting to his own continued existence  - he had realized that the images he saw were not just his delusions. That unseen, undead, he had been following them through the years. Maybe his greed etched him into their souls, maybe Saki had unknowingly bound them to her when she had restored their Canti after their summer camp, but this much was true - a part of his soul was with them wherever they went, whispering words to Saki through a thick wall of conditioned amnesia and grief, trying to lend strength to Satoru as he stood unwaveringly by her side.

Shun had neither wanted nor attempted anything more than this, thankful enough for this connection and content with no longer being the biggest danger they could face. And without him, they weren’t helpless - Saki grew into a leader more with every passing day, making hard choices and accepting harder truths, and Satoru had always been a resourceful tactician and quick on his feet, and always, always by her side when it mattered the most. Shun had faith in them, and they never disappointed, and were much better at living than he ever had been.

...until they are in the dark tunnels under former Tokyo, drinking in the repugnant, stale air in greedy gulps of people who think they are taking their last breaths. Kiroumarou has just died, an arrow finding his throat, and now Saki and Satoru cannot capitalize on the knowledge of how to trigger attack inhibition in the child. Squealer is a formidable enemy - as soon as he suspected that the true nature of the ‘fiend’ has been revealed, he concentrated all efforts on eliminating the one player who could turn the tables. With a queerat traitor who was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of humans lying dead at their feet, with all Psychobuster powder burnt in that desperate act of refusal to sacrifice one another, Saki and Satoru have no chances of facing Maria’s child in an open fight and surviving...

...and when Shun moves, when he detaches himself from the shadows where had lingered, propelling his consciousness ahead, forward, drop-kicking it into the reality of Tokyo dungeons, he doesn’t think of anything except buying Saki and Satoru more time to run. Shun doesn’t know how material his presence is, and he doesn’t much care, all of his focus trained on the fiend. He doesn’t go into the fight expecting to survive it - in fact, he counts on the polar opposite. He acts on the assumption that his Cantus, as twisted out of any limitations as it is, can inflict lethal enough damage on the child before the death feedback kicks in, and failing that, he hopes to drag the child back with him to the limbo where reality does not exist, but karma demons do. Death feedback is a very loose concept for someone who by all means should have been dead for years - he isn’t sure he is alive now, he doesn’t remember how alive felt and how long ago it was and he doesn’t know how to remember - and it is certainly less intimidating than the prospect of continuing his wretched existence when Saki and Satoru cannot...

...turns out, death feedback is bone-crushingly real, and it makes a very solid point that his existence is material enough, regardless of what Shun himself has thought on the subject. Defeating the child is just a matter of distracting her with a feint and quickly shutting down her vital systems on a cellular level - brute force was what she relied on and expected from her opponents, and he sees no reason to indulge her - so it is over quickly. But he doesn’t have a chance to feel any relief, because his own body is being hammered with the force of death feedback, and after years of non-being in a gentle, forgiving void, physical sensations are a shock to his body and mind, and he wants nothing more than to reunite with the senseless, painless nothingness...

...and it is Satoru who runs and catches him in his arms then, it is Saki who strokes his face and shushes and cries, and with every passing minute he grows more aware of hot tears on his cheeks - hers or his, Shun doesn’t know - as the pain subsides. His Cantus, the treacherous beast that even now clings to life and breaks all rules to tie him to it, halts and then slowly diffuses the programmed self-destructive processes designed to punish those who attack humans. He cheats death once again, because Saki and Satoru cannot…

Shun finished reciting the mantras and wrapped up the ceremony by setting off small fireworks, because Satoru’s eyes were bright, and Saki’s back was ramrod straight, and they both looked at him as if _he_ was their image that lingered with them in the darkest hours, and not the other way around.

(It is another impromptu decision, as this small task doesn’t even leave a dent in his Cantus reserves, but it doesn’t matter.)

(The wind currents pick up the sweet scent from the meadows by the forest - the spring blossoms are the freshest there - and spirit it towards the village.)

They were invaluable. They were living and breathing and insisting that he, too, live and breathe, and he was too greedy to refuse.

His Cantus sent a shimmer over the wings of golden butterflies, setting off tiny patches of light against children’s faces, as if to remind Shun that it was not only his own will that had a say in his survival.

He ignored it. He was getting good at ignoring things that were not immediate and real. Instead, he concentrated on what he could give that Saki and Satoru wished for, even if, against all odds, it was his presence.

* * *

“Well, I thought the wedding went well,” Satoru said, entering the room. “Did you?”

Saki was rearranging her hair in front of the mirror, one of the ornaments tucked between her teeth, so she only pulled a face in response. Satoru smiled, pleased that he still had the ability to easily bring out most childish, animated expressions from her, even though these days it was almost always a private thing. They were not a common part of the demeanor for a Head of Ethics Committee, that much he remembered from his grandmother, too.

Shun was standing by the window – keeping a little distance, as usual. His features and slight frame, frozen in time somewhere between youth and a fictional construct, looked even more ethereal in the light of the golden hour hitting his silhouette from the back, outlining it in a luminous contour and hiding his face in shadows. Satoru didn’t need to follow his line of sight to know he was looking at Saki – Shun had reserved that soft, almost awed expression for her alone, ever since they were children.

(Satoru wasn’t sure he knew how Shun looked at him, because whenever Satoru caught him looking, all coherent thought got lost in adoration. It was probably silly, but he could never help it, and even Saki didn’t make fun of him for that.)

“You guys don’t even know how easy you have it,” Saki said, taking the hair ornament away and laying it on the table. “A hat is nothing compared to having this _construction_ balanced on your head for several hours.”

“I thought this construction didn’t look too bad,” Satoru smiled, at the same time that Shun said quietly, “You were beautiful.”

“Our Saki often is,” Satoru agreed easily, “especially when she’s out to impress people - or trample opposition.”

“You were both beautiful,” Shun continued in the same tone, and Satoru forgot what he was going to say next and bit the inside of his cheek.

“I’d appreciate it if anyone lent me a hand with dismantling it, though,” Saki said, almost petulantly, or at least drawing the vowels long enough to hide a crack in her voice.

As soon as she said it, pins started slowly sliding out from her hair, pulled by invisible hands, letting loose strands fall on her shoulders. Shun hadn’t moved an inch, but of course the reach and precision of his Pk touch would let him do something like that without breaking a sweat.

“I don’t think that’s the only way to do it, though,” Satoru said, coming over to Shun and gently holding him by the wrist. All movement in the room stopped, and several locks of Saki’s hair were left suspended in mid-air, like swirls of water caught on paper by a skilled artist’s hand. Shun’s breathing got so quiet that it became almost imperceptible. An intricate, ever-changing pattern of frost appeared on the window, adding a pink tint to the warm afternoon light spilling into the room. Hating the expression of uncertainty that flickered in Shun’s eyes, Satoru wanted to explain what he meant in the fastest way possible, so he pulled Shun by his wrist to where Saki was standing, observing them both in the mirror.

“There’s a better way,” Satoru said, gently placing Shun’s fingers over a long, sharp hairpin still half-hidden by Saki’s hair. Leading by example, Satoru unclasped another ornament and gently placed it on the table. “See?”

Shun turned and looked at him, his stare long and emotions behind it undecipherable as they always were to Satoru when he was on the receiving end of them,  so he felt himself slide into a ramble. “It’s a bit mundane, maybe, but you know – “

“Mundane?” Shun huffed out a laugh – an actual laugh! from Shun! – and shook his head, a strand of Saki’s hair still caught between his fingers. “There is nothing mundane about you. You survive queerat rebellions, bring people from the dead, rebuild villages, play with Tainted Cats in your backyard -”

“Tainted kittens,” Saki interjected half-heartedly, fascination with this little speech clear in her voice, but Shun’s fingers on the back of her neck silenced her before she could say anything else, or crack a joke at Satoru’s expense, seeing how the genetic enhancement of the Cats was his project now.

“Keep a karma demon under your roof,” Shun continued, his voice dropping into a whisper. His fingers were pale against Saki’s neck, and Satoru watched, fascinated, how their lightest stroke sent a shiver down Saki’s spine. “Invite him into your bed.”

His voice was barely audible now, but it was still the loudest thing in the room, and Saki trembled under his fingers, and Shun kept looking at Satoru, and Satoru’s heart was too full, too full and overflowing with things that would not fit into sentences alone - though he would always try to get the words out anyway, but maybe later - and he could do nothing but wrap his arms around both of them and hold them close to his chest.

Shun’s bones felt too fragile in his grasp, and Saki’s body was warm and soft when she relaxed into the embrace, and her hair spilled against all of them, falling free of the pins and Pk hold both.

“I like the perks,” Satoru managed to get out eventually, though his voice was thick. “Our house has miracles happening in every corner of it, one never gets bored. Speaking of, you must tell me more about that frost flowers on the window – it was something mathematical again, wasn’t it?”

Saki laughed under her breath. “Satoru definitely has an unfair advantage over other scientists, if he gets to grill you for answers.”

“Is that an ethical issue you want to bring up, o most revered Head of the Committee?” Satoru feigned offense – she probably knew all too well why Satoru always found questions to ask Shun, because she too had seen how focused and sharp and _tangible_ Shun got when given a safe, solid ground to walk  - and made a display of trying to tackle her. She laughed and pushed into him until he lost balance, and they all toppled onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and rustle of robes.

They lay there for a while, on the floor, listening to each other’s breathing and feeling each other’s pulse in the chambers of their own hearts, and watched the sunset light quietly leave the room.

**Author's Note:**

> happy yuletide, tanktrilby! i hope this meets your prompt, as i've decided to bring shun back at the point in canon where he almost, almost seemed to be back on his own, so it's canon divergence from the very end of their tokyo arc. many thanks for giving me an opportunity to write for this fandom, hope you enjoy the read, and merry holidays!
> 
> the title is a line taken from one of the chants sung in shinsekai yori
> 
> the butterfly curve looks like [this](http://mathworld.wolfram.com/ButterflyCurve.html), and i sincerely apologize if i messed up some science or pseudo-science bits


End file.
